


i don’t wanna feel everything that was meant to be faded

by rocshia



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: De-Aged Jaemin, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hypersexuality, Jaemin is 14, Mentioned Mark Lee (NCT), Na Jaemin is just fucking sad, Oneshot, Self-Harm, Song: A-Un (Polkadot Stingray), Song: Kill Your Darling (summersoul), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, anyways it’s just sad shit, but I do mention, but i don’t think it should be tagged as grooming because idk?, i need help that doesn’t involve hearing the same shit i always hear when i rant, in my experience the guy was 43, jaemin is just me lol, no smut im not writing that and either way jaemin is a minor here, somewhat inspired by, vent fic, weird age gaps between jaemin and the people he talks to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocshia/pseuds/rocshia
Summary: jaemin isn’t okay.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	i don’t wanna feel everything that was meant to be faded

**Author's Note:**

> vent fic about the current situation im in ahaha pls help me i can’t stop fucking myself up and doing risky shit as a coping mechanism and i hate it but i like the attention that the people i talked to gave me and i miss it and i’m gonna get myself into deep shit one day and i don’t even think i’ll regret it

there are still some months until jaemin turns fifteen, but he’s just so  _ scared. _

he’s scared of failing the school year because ever since quarantine he’s had trouble learning and his grades are shit because he doesn’t do his homework on time. he’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard, he sits in front of his computer and opens tons of tabs and stares at them but he finds himself being caught up in his maladaptive daydreams every time and it sucks.

he thinks so much about a world and a him that does not exist that he forgets to be a  _ human being.  _ he forgets to live, he forgets to move, and he forgets that he shouldn’t say all his thoughts out loud, but sometimes he finds himself mouthing words that he shouldn’t be saying in his  _ real _ world.

he lives in his head because living on earth is scary.

his parents always ask him if he finished all his homework and he lies  _ every time. _

if he doesn’t lie, they’ll bother him and yell at him and he’ll never get personal space; rightfully so, as nobody wants to see their child fail, but he just wished his dad didn’t care more about his unfinished homework than the fact he couldn’t see out of his right eye.

he wished his mom didn’t tell him she wished she aborted him every time she got mad and that his sister was the better sibling because he had scholarships and got accepted into every college he applied to.

he wishes he was his sister.

jaemin also wishes he was born a boy, but he can’t even have that either. he can’t have  _ anything  _ going well in his life and it fucking sucks. he can’t even have a house that isn’t literal fucking hell and infested.

it’s been infested for as long as his sister was born and he can either move out when his he’s an adult and get used to living an abnormal life or get the fuck out as soon as possible, but it’ll probably be the former.

jaemin doesn’t even know if his parents  _ care _ about the infestation anymore,

so he wants to be with someone who will at least  _ pretend _ to care about him.

jaemin’s scared of being kidnapped and trafficked, but being called sweet and endearing names and feeling loved makes him just stop caring about all of that.

there is something just so beautiful yet scary and gross about everything he’s doing and he loves the feeling, a feeling that he can’t name or even describe.

he hates that he can’t like anybody his age and he knows it’s wrong that he doesn’t and he knows that he’s disgusting and a freak and anything and everything that’s ever happened to him is  _ his _ fault because it was all initiated by  _ him,  _ but he can’t get out of this deep and hollow hole he’s in and he keeps on sinking in the quicksand it’s made out of.

he hates the fact that he can’t be with anybody in real life because he’s stuck in his house, he hates the fact that he never tried to get with his teachers when he had the chance and he hates the fact that he’s too young to be hypersexualizing himself like this but he doesn’t think he’ll make it over the age nineteen anyways.

he keeps cutting in the same place on his thighs and arms so that nobody will notice or care and he keeps starving himself until he reaches a bmi of 14 because the desire to be as much of a thin string hanging on for dear life as he is on the inside on the outside is just so strong. he wants to feel pretty and beautiful and he wants to be good enough and he wants to be told that he’s a good boy but he can’t even be called a good girl.

jaemin wants to bleed out of his body so fucking  _ badly _ but he never dies, he just gains new scars.

although maybe, one day he _ will  _ die like this, and he’s never going to meet his friend of three years, nor will he be able to release the songs by himself he likes so much, nor will he become a successful artist, nor will he ever know his newest friend for that long.

he likes to think that when he dies, he gets to be whatever he wants. whether it’s becoming an angel in heaven, or becoming a reincarnated mark lee, his favorite solo artist currently.

he plays the same songs by him on repeat everyday and he knows he’ll get tired eventually but the songs mark makes instantly trigger his maladaptive daydreams and make him stop thinking about his real life for hours on end. jaemin always forgets that he’s just staring at the wall, that he’s not moving, that he hasn’t eaten anything the whole day, and that he’s supposed to sleep everytime he hears mark’s voice.

jaemin wonders how mark is doing, how happy he is with all his money and how happy he is with all his nice clothes and how happy he is making the kind of music he wants to make. jaemin wants to know how mark feels.

jaemin knows how  _ he  _ feels.

he’s slowly bursting into red confetti, unraveling into a monster that’s grown too big to be contained, bleeding and melting onto the ground, falling off of the very stage he promised he’d continue to stand on just for his future that he doesn’t know if he’ll succeed at becoming.

he’s living just to make it to another week,

but at least he has his phone.

at least he can hear mark’s music in his headphones whenever he wants.

at least he can text older men whenever he feels like shit to get fed fake compliments and lies that make him feel good in the moment.

at least he’s losing weight and getting closer to his goal.

at least he pushes back all of the shit in his life to feel like he’s happy.

he is only as strong as feathers.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote “as strong as feathers” because feathers are like, strong enough to make a bird fly and stuff, but they’re light and if a birds wing was to get injured they’re in deep shit lmao
> 
> it just came to my head randomly and i was just like “this sounds so deep wow lemme add it” haha
> 
> the original ending was supposed to be “but at least he has his phone” but i added stuff after the “he’s bursting into red confetti” part so I felt like I had to write more to make it flow together. this was originally supposed to be like 400 words lol
> 
> anyways, i hope this doesn’t sound like i’m romanticizing or supporting adults being with minors, because i tried to make everything sound as sad as it actually is.


End file.
